A History of Shadows
by realmsoffreedom
Summary: There's only so much a heart can take. Life has finally caught up to me- and I've been hurt by so many people. It's finally broken me- so are you happy now? I hope you all are proud of yourselves. I hope breaking me was worth it.


**This is just a oneshot- the one I was thinking of writing during One Split Second. For right now- it is a oneshot- though I _might_ make it into a multichapter. Anyway- trigger warning- self-harm, suicide, depression, rape, and child abuse.**

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I don't know exactly what's happened in my life, that's fucked me up so badly. There are a series of distinct incidents what have molded and shaped me into the person I am today- although I can't say I _like_ who that person is. In fact, I can blatantly say that I _don't_. I _don't _like the person I've become. My real self is someone I would impale in seconds- if my conscience permitted that much. Somehow- it always seems to intervene and throw itself in the middle of my carefully planned out attempts of suicide.

I wish I was dead right now, but instead- I've been reduced to lying. My life is a myriad of lies, because the little ones have spiraled, and the big ones have only gotten bigger. Everything anyone knows about me is probably far from the truth- that was my intention from day one. Lying has become a part of me- mainly because I've been doing it so long. I've been pretending and faking and leaving a false sense of reassurance with my friends.

I don't know how to tell the truth. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth- lying has become a part of me- a permanent part. I don't know if I _can_ start telling the truth- the repercussions of that would break me even further.

My past is a web of secrets and betrayal- it is something I wish nothing more than to forget. But it follows me wherever I go- and I just can't escape. I've sought respite for at least two years, and it hasn't graced me with its presence yet. I doubt anything will happen- to be quite honest.

I don't think I deserve the peace, the respite, anything that a miracle will bring. It's not just self-hate- my parents have both instilled into me how much of a worthless, useless mistake I am. They said that they wanted to abort me, but they couldn't, and that hurts more than anything.

Abuse can go either way. Some people believe it to be a form of discipline/punishment, while others think of it as pain, torture, and torment. I think of it as something I deserve for being such a disappointment to my family. They weren't able to put up with me, so I was shipped off to boarding school at the age of five. _Five_. And then, every summer when I'd go home, I'd be relentlessly beaten by my parents.

Child Protective Services found out about the abuse when I was around 11. They took my father to jail, but somehow- they couldn't prove that my mother had anything to do with the situation. She threatened me into telling the truth- they both did, actually, but I looked a lot more terrified when talking about my father- so CPS believed he was the perpetrator.

Which meant my mother had me all to herself. Oh, and I neglected to mention my parents' infatuation with only causing _me_ pain. My sister was left unharmed- and I've always- to this day- wondered what she has, that I don't. She's younger than me- but somehow, she has always been better than me.

My parents brainwashed her into thinking I was a useless, worthless abomination- at a very young age. Needless to say, she joined them in the abuse. Not necessarily the physical aspect- but the emotional torture was enough to reduce me to tears. This was coming from my younger sister. She had the power to say something so horrid that it broke me, and I never quite understood why I was- and still am- so pathetic.

I basically grew up in boarding school. Not to say anything offensive about it- Anubis house was- and still is- the very reason I haven't committed suicide yet- but I would've much preferred learning my lessons through parents. Trudy acted as a second mother to me, but a small part of me had always wondered why my real mother wasn't nearly as kind and caring as she was.

I was there before any of the residents you know now to be there. Patricia arrived first- only a year after I did. Coaxing her out of her shell has to be one of my biggest accomplishments- considering how firmly she believed that Piper was much better than she was. It took a while, but I did manage to convince her that she had some worth in the world- the fact that she believed me eventually was icing on the cake.

After her came Joy, then Fabian, Mara, Mick, Amber and Alfie. Oh, Alfie… He easily became my best friend- but he didn't know that he was becoming best friends with my fake personality. The fun, joking, prank-loving Jerome was just an act, but so goddamn easily bought by my friends. I guess I could also say that Alfie was my reason to live. He brought out a good side in me, and I really admired how happy he could be- his happiness was always genuine.

I'm not sure that I know what happiness is anymore. I know how to _act_ happy, but genuine happiness is a mystery to me. I don't know how people can be so carefree- when something tragic will eventually happen to them, and they'll realize what I've managed to figure out. Happiness is not real. It's just an emotion that people delude themselves into feeling, and when it backfires- it hits _hard_. Harder than anything I've ever felt- happiness is my main enemy.

It sounds all nice, with its sunshine and rainbows and sugar plum fairies- but in my eyes, that's utter bullshit. No one can possibly be that happy- it has to be an act. Faking is easy- that's why no one has ever noticed how broken I truly am. I'm a good actor- and that has helped me so much over the years. No one has suspected anything- and I'd like to keep it that way. If they find out, I'm fucked.

My life will be over- I'll never be looked at the same again. They'll treat me differently- like I have the plague- like I'll contaminate their living area. I'm disgusting- my innocence has been stolen multiple times- I've been played with and used, like a toy. I'm not the happy, carefree guy they think I am- I never have been.

All I've done is fuck up everyone's lives. I complicated my parents'- they would've had a lot less stress to deal with, had I not been such a disappointment. I'm still not sure what I did wrong, but it has to be something horrid. Maybe it was being born- my mere existence was wrong, in their eyes. But that's something I cannot help- no matter how hard I try. It's something that I can't control- I was born because my mother and father decided to have fun one night, without protection.

I was a mistake. An accident.

That's all I'll ever be. I don't think I can get past how used and dirty I am- how disgusting and repulsive I've become- or how messed up in the head, how fucked up inside, I am. I'm just a fuck up- that's all I'll ever be. Cutting to feel, starving to lose, acting to fake- that's what I've been reduced to.

I don't know if I want to do this anymore. Life is absolute pain- and I've been trying to hold on for so long. I'm so done with everything- and I guess this is finally it. No more fuck ups in the world, after I'm dead. I'll probably go through with suicide- I haven't thought it through entirely yet. But I'm just done with the world. It's caused me more agony than I can say, and I'm just going to let it win.

There's only so much a heart can take. Life has finally caught up to me- and I've been hurt by so many people. It's finally broken me- so are you happy now? I hope you all are proud of yourselves. I hope breaking me was worth it.

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**Thoughts? Would you guys like me to continue this? I could- but I don't know when I'll start to update. For now- this is it. I hope you enjoyed it- please review- and thank you so much for reading.**

**-Neha**


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